


They Don't Come Much More Sick Than You

by watchthequeenconquer



Category: Cow Chop, The Creatures (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Caretaking, M/M, Sickfic, blow job gone wrong, mentions of ass eating, misuse of medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchthequeenconquer/pseuds/watchthequeenconquer
Summary: High on cough medicine and horny, bed rest isn't the kind of recovery Aleks has in mind.OR Aleks is a shitty patient with an agenda. James tries to care, but is a deviant. Dick stuff ensues.





	They Don't Come Much More Sick Than You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/gifts).



> For liesmith - for perfectly capturing the messed up, too perfect dynamic between the Cow Chop boys. Sorry it's not Brett, but loving your work. 
> 
> I was sick last week so this happened. 
> 
> Title from Flathead by The Fratellis.

Wrestling to retain his handhold on the cough syrup bottle he's clutching onto for dear life, Aleks musters all his strength to glare at James. 

"Get off me, asshole!" He screams, more shrilly than intended, when the sheer force of his squinted eyes does nothing to hinder James' hulk-like strength.

"Give me the cough syrup, Aleksandr!" James yells back in exasperation, voice equally keyed up. Between his sweat slicked grip and an unintentional elbow to the ribs that leaves him winded and hacking up his lungs even more emphatically, Aleks forcibly acquiesces.

"What the fuck, John Cena!" Aleks splutters incredulously between coughs as James moves to place the bottle safely out of the reach of his prone form on the couch, "Could you avoid hitting me with your special when I'm off roster? Can't you see I'm taped out?"

He returns James' exasperated glance with a look of contempt as the older man moves back to sit within his vicinity, hands braced on his knees for support. If he didn't know any better, he'd think James was trying to ruin his fun. 

"While I appreciate the weird cross reference, do you want me to applaud you for downing half the bottle? It's medicine, Aleks."

"Lil Wayne drinks it all the time and he's fine..." Aleks replies poorly in his own defense, cutting himself off with wet-phlegm laden hacks that leave him near gagging, intense spasms rocking his weakened body.

"Yeah… Lil Wayne is a great example of a human being with no problems whatsoever, you fucking dick. Try and be a little less LA." James rolls his eyes, toeing a bucket within projectile vomiting distance. Like Aleks is going to puke, he's not a little bitch. 

His head is spinning a little from the effort of their scuffle and once he can settle enough to unfold from his concertina bend position, he manages to slump back into the shoulder of the couch, unable to stay properly upright.

"But I'm all about that life, baby!" Aleks grins before breaking into another coughing fit, holding back a shiver when a cold sweat drenches him. He may have thrown up a little in his mouth this time, but James is never going to know that.

"Maybe if you were less about 'that life' you wouldn't be house bound right now." James brushes him off dismissively, concentrating on reading the label on the object in his hand. When did that get there? Aleks furrows his eyebrows in irritation. More to the point, could he be any less considerate? 

"What kind of treatment is this? You're meant to be caring for me and shit! I could be in hospital..."Aleks bites back, because he's way too simultaneously high and queasy not to aim low at this fractured point in time. 

"God, I am so close to putting you there right now." James lifts his head to the paint- scrapped ceiling, momentarily shutting his eyes like he is trying to contain himself. 

The cough syrup has made Aleks weirdly spacey yet acutely focused at the same time –all the edges are blurry but straight down the centre his vision is microscopically acute. James is obviously convincing himself not to take up Aleks’ earlier, entirely comedic plea to put him permanently out of his misery, jaw pulsing with the strain. All Aleks can focus on is the exposed column of his throat, the way it shudders as he swallows and breathes through his mouth. It fondly reminds Aleks of why his sole purpose in life is to consistently be a pain - James is super hot when he's mad.

"Are you having a stroke?" James queries, staring incredulously at Aleks like he's grown an extra head. Aleks is about to ask what his fucking problem is when he realises he's probably been staring without blinking for two minutes now.

"What if I was? You're the worst doctor ever. What ever happened to duty of care?" Aleks declares, cuddling a pillow to his chest like a fretful child about to chuck a tantrum. 

"Yeah, I'm the worst...do you think I would be doing this if I had a choice?" James replies, shaking his head. He looks about ready to call it quits for a second but reconsiders, extending his hand, "Now put this on. Doctor’s orders."

Aleks wrinkles his nose at the container of ointment in disgust. 

"Ew, no."

"What do you mean no? Put it on!" James parrots him in a less than flattering manner, ending in another forcible shout to emphasise his point. 

"Oh my god, I think my clogged ear drums are bleeding. No dude, that's gross." Aleks groans, rubbing at his ears in hope of clearing the dull ache that has transpired in his head. 

"Am I dealing with a fucking five year old? It will help clear your chest from all that gunk so you can sleep and not choke to death on your own spit!" James insists, impatiently turning the object in his hands. He gets so animated when he’s annoyed, all his boundless energy concentrated into his leg tapping. 

"I don't trust your American medicine. In old country, vodka is better." Aleks jokes, playing at distraction as he falls back into his old Russian accent.

"No more alcohol...not even fucking mouth wash after your little stunt earlier!" It's James turn to grin smugly when Aleks' face falls, quickly realising he's not getting out of this with intoxication on his side. 

"Come on, man....my hands are going to get all sticky! " Aleks outwardly whines now, testing a different tact. He slips pathetically down the couch as if he doesn't have the will to hold himself up, which is, you know, mostly true, at least mentally. 

"You have your dick in your hand so often, I'm surprised that’s an issue." James snickers, unable to help himself. He's focusing that energy now, shifting ever so slightly, planning on making a move. 

"I resent that implication." Aleks throws back, not even verging on affronted and sounding as wilted as he looks. 

"Are you going to make me put this on you? Is that what this is about?" James is the one glaring now, hands on hips.

"Everything hurts!" Aleks mewls helplessly from his crumpled position, pulling a pillow over his face just to add to the effect. It's not much of an act - that small effort sapped a lot of energy.

Even by his sluggish reaction time, James moves at a terrifyingly quick pace. All Aleks registers is a guttural growl before he's being bodily hoisted upright by the front of his shirt and propped up against the back of the couch. Blearily he's sure his shirt tears a little before it's wrenched over his head, his arms catching and jerking up and over, jaggedly going with it. 

"I can make it hurt even more if you're not good." James promises savagely, and though Aleks remains (relatively) quiet and compliant, he's never wanted to disobey more in his entire life. 

"Yes, nurse." Aleks replies snarkily as James cracks open the container on the edge of the table and smears the solution on his hands. Being the primitive heathen that he is, the sight of the wet substance rubbed into the other man’s hands is all it takes for his imagination to detour down a much dirtier path. He contemplates knocking the container off the couch arm just so James has to bend and pick it up, but can’t will his arm into the movement.

"Your chest infection isn't a role play, for fuck's sake...hold still..." James chides, almost like he could read Aleks’ juvenile thought process. 

Aleks is sure there are more bossy instructions to follow, but every other coherent thought flat lines when James puts his hands on him. He gasps at the initial cold sensation on his too warm skin, squirms against the slimy texture. 

"It'll warm up in a second...just hang in there." James' voice is softer, almost coaxing and Aleks faintly thinks that for all his bravado, he must look beyond pathetic.

James widens the stroke of his hands in response and Aleks’ brain reactively short circuits. He slams his eyes shut, focusing on the soothing circular motions. James hands are maddeningly gentle but firm as they sweep over his ridge of his collar bone, smoothed by the warm lubricant under his hands. The blooming warmth and the pressure are the best thing Aleks has felt in days, maybe a month. 

"Lower..." A voice that definitely isn’t Aleks groans, all cracked and breathy. He must be hallucinating. 

"You're sick, alright." James chuckles, but it's dark and low and makes Aleks stomach roll and not just because he hasn't eaten in a day and the cough syrup is beginning to stick to his insides. 

His world narrows down to the slick hands bypassing his pecs and sliding over the expanse of his ribs, carefully exploring the tiny conclaves, the infuriatingly delicate path of each fingertip sending ripples of heat shooting up his spine.

When the ministrations find his nipples, rolling over teasingly before moving back in a steady rhythm to flick them with cruel deliberation, Aleks finds his second wind, desperately arching into the contact.

"You're such a little whore." James laughs from his place hovering above him, hands show no sign of relenting – not that Aleks is doing anything to dissuade him with his little hisses and half sighs. James’ voice gets so dark when he's revelling in someone else's pain and it's so consuming that if Aleks could bottle it, he'd never be sober.

Aleks presses back hard against his touch in response, because if he opens his mouth right now he's pretty sure he'll moan and then he will be a little bitch.

James' black eyes are dancing, glassy and hard on the surface from the weed - the perfect aesthetic for the devil's head disciple. The tiny pink slip of his tongue protrudes from his mouth as he concentrates on the slow, intimate torture, giving way to a satisfied smirk when Aleks body begins to shudder in rhythmic convulsions. 

"Ready to pass out?" James teases, voice melodic as hell, slipping his thumb in Aleks mouth. Aleks takes it, takes it all, suckling without complaint, even when James pushes it the whole way in and makes him gag a little when he presses down on his tongue. 

"Blow me." Aleks mouths around the digit and James' hands mercilessly retract at that, but his face is flushed. Aleks uses the surprise advantageous, following the movement to tip James backwards and clamber into his lap, thighs on either side of his legs.  

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, did someone invite you up on this?" James' attempt at rejection is ruined by golden laughter, breaking through the façade like sunshine. As Aleks steadies himself, dizziness throwing him off balance, a split second of terror overcomes him at the thought that James might throw him off. But there are hands around his waist, making him feel smaller than he should, not dragging him in or pushing him away – just holding, waiting. 

"I mean it...blow me." Aleks pushes. Before he can latch on to a coherent thought and find some sense, he begins grinding down in James’ lap. It's sloppy and uncoordinated as hell, but as he lopes his arms around James' neck as leverage, he catches the tail-end of a sharp intake of breath before James uses his strong grip to force him backwards to look at him.

"When you’re this ill? No chance, dude. Ewwww you got that creamy shit all over me!" James cries, face crinkling distastefully, half heartedly attempting to hold Aleks at arms length and wipe his shirt of the offending substance with his free hand. 

"My dick isn't...it's not like I have herpes." Aleks protests hotly, cuddling into James' neck innocently before slipping down to lave bite marks on down to the base. James inhales sharply again, the warm flush of arousal spreading down his neck now and Aleks grins, all teeth. He's perfected the art of sexual distraction, if nothing else in life. 

"I'll make it worth your while..." 

James' arms have gone lax around him as he moves his way down to his collarbone, nipping and sucking with infuriating brevity. His hips settle into a shuddering rhythm that entirely lacks finesse. When he sweeps his ass directly over James, the desperately trying to only be half-interested line in his jeans, he sets his position advantageously, hips jackknifing in a downward roll.  

James chokes at that, gasping for breath like a drowning man. From the perspective of someone who has been gagging on their own bodily fluids for the past week, it's a nice choke. A choke Aleks would like to see inspired by other parts of his anatomy, stat Grey. 

"Can you chill out, please!" It's James' turn to whine now as he shoves Aleks half-assedly, enough to sway him but not to signal stop. His voice is all pitchy and tight and Aleks knows he's got his balls in the palm of his hand. Time to apply some friction. 

"What could you possibly do for me right now?" James holds him back skeptically, pinning him with his stare. Aleks is tempted to shoot back that he's already doing plenty for James if his visibile chubby is any indication, but he figures that won't get him far. Play the long game, my man.

"I'll...sleep on the couch so you don't get sick?" Aleks aims low in the early stages of his bartering. Always better to build to a climax. 

"You won't and you should've offered that anyway!" James counters and maybe Aleks shouldn't be fucking around negotiating right now. He's starting to look pissed and every second that passes without contact between them is decreasing the dick-in-mouth possibilities.

"I'll do your editing for the rest of the week?" Aleks tries his luck at continuing his low rent lap dance, but James is having none it. Fuck. 

"And get the rest of the guys sick? Pass. What else you got?" James frees an arm to lope it casually over the back of the couch, eyeing the smaller man like he has all the time in the world and all the cards at his disposal. But the giveaway is his hand- slipping under Aleks shirt to trace his hipbone with that fidgety urgency James exudes when maybe he wants a piece of the action, so Aleks knows he’s still in with a puncher’s chance. 

"I'll eat your ass."

James' arm drops from the back of the couch as his eyebrows hit his hairline.

"For an hour." 

Aleks tries to keep his voice controlled, but James' deer in headlights expression is making this way too much fun. 

"You can drink if you want...I won't."

Urgent hands are pushing him down onto his back and attacking his pants without warning. 

"I mean...how bad could it be? I can't taste anything anyway." Aleks smirks with a cocked eyebrow. Instead of playing out the scenario Aleks can see flashing behind his eyes, in which James power bombs him through the couch and walks off, to his credit, James just rolls his eyes. He’s either a saint or Aleks is the ass eating champion of the world. 

"Fucker." James sighs, using his free hand to pinch his thigh as he slides to the floor to make more space, but doesn't stop until he gets Aleks buttons undone, doesn't even look like stopping once his fly is down. 

"You love me like this." Aleks can't help the grin that engulfs his whole face. 

"If I do this, you'll go to sleep and leave me the fuck alone, right?" James clarifies with a skeptical look. Aleks would almost take him seriously if he wasn't a second away from having his dick in his hand.

"Sure." Aleks responds without any conviction, too busy propping himself up on his elbows to watch as James releases him from his pants. He’s already embarrassingly hard and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second at how good it feels to be free from his stupidly tight jeans when James drags them down over his ass, snorting at the fact that Aleks is already commando underneath. 

"No bugging me in the middle of the night to get you tissues, or fluff up your pillow or pat your back when you’re hacking up a lung...." James counts of the list as slowly as inhumanely possible as he holds Aleks without moving, black eyes glittering as Aleks squirms impatiently like he’s about to spontaneously combust. 

"Alright, yes, I’ll do anything you want… fuc-ugh…"

James is quick to go to work, head bobbing enthusiastically with short, sharp sucks. What he lacks in depth he makes up for with suction, clamping down deliciously tight over his shaft. It’s so early and Aleks is already desperately fighting the urge to face fuck his way to an orgasm, pressing his hips as far down into the couch as possible to aid his resistance. 

His free hand busies itself scratching through the remnants of Aleks’ public hair, down to stubble from a shave earlier in the week. Aleks knows it’s weird to be thinking of Mishka right now, but he’s sure his eyes roll back into his head and his leg is this close to spasming just like when she gets her belly rubbed because rubbing on that itch is so damn satisfying. 

“Good?” James pulls off with an obscene pop and Aleks has to forcible extract his eyeballs from the back of his skull to look at him. The sight makes his dick jump – hair hastily tied in a messy bun, the pink flush on his cheeks and is that pre-come on his lips? 

“Dude, you have no idea.” Aleks groans outright, falling backwards with a thud and throwing a hand over his eyes. He can’t, he just can’t even look at how ridiculously, unintentionally fuckable James looks right now. He’s so hard and so fucking spent from this fucking sickness – there is only so much teasing a seriously ill person can take. 

Eyes shielded from view, his body shivers at the lack of contact as James pauses for a moment, fiddling with something beside the couch. Aleks has to physically suppress an intolerant whine, hips bucking restlessly in need of attention. His entire body jolts when James’ mouth takes him in again, shiver as hands spread his legs. He’s so caught up in the sensation and the obscenely loud suckling noises that he jumps when he feels James’ fingers push against his entrance, slicked with the ointment as a makeshift lube. 

“Ah fuck that stings, go easy on me!” Aleks yelps in distress, before a carefully executed combination of licks to the cluster of nerves at the tip of his head render him silent again. 

“Don’t I always make it good, Aleksandr?” James chuckles. When he slides back down his length again, he hums and the noise reverberates right down to the root, vibrations intensifying the pulsations in Alek’s lower belly. 

The first finger slots in easily, a second one quickly follows - Aleks can’t help the shameless way his body bares down, chasing the motion intuitively as the third finger stretches and presses, squeezing his eyes tighter against the delicious burn the friction creates.

James’ mouth hits its blissful stride just as his fingers flutter across the spot that makes Aleks’ entire aching body stutter. Removing his arm from his eyes, he wraps the awkward spare hand around James’ bun, tugging and then pulling harder when James responds with an encouraging groan around his dick. 

The sensation is so overwhelmingly encompassing – the ridiculously wet, filthy slurps, the finger’s synchronizing their slams into his prostate, his own erratic groans and James’ encouraging grunts as he swallows him down like he does this for a living is too much to handle. 

“James-fuck-I…” 

The heat in his belly goes from fire spark to rocket launcher in two point five seconds flat. Light-headed and dazed from arousal and the ingested substances (or was that the tequila he snuck before James got home?), Aleks can’t find the words when the crescendo of his climax is outstripped by a warming tickling sensation that halts his breathing and freezes his body before it explodes.

It’s not just his dick, it’s his fucking nose. 

Aleks sneezes, loud and wet, and everything, everything releases. 

When he reflects on it in his quieter moments of recuperation, coming and sneezing at the same time is an absolute master stroke – inspiring a level of euphoria that eclipses anything he’s every experience. 

It may have had something to do with the fact that during this next level of consciousness, James is literally choking on his cock. As Aleks head burrows into his chest with the sheer force of it, his hips surge upwards, taking James entirely by surprise and burying his dick so far down his throat that his load bypasses the need for actively swallowing. And there is a lot of fucking cum, because the distressed, spluttering sounds that James only encourage the projection of bodily fluid. 

“Thanks for the warning, asshole!” James is on his feet in a second, pants half way down his thighs and pumping his own neglected dick aggressively as he bends over Aleks’ drained form, bracing his free arm on the back of the couch for support. 

For his part, Aleks looks up incoherently in a come-induced daze, staring at James’ angrily red dick as his hips fall out of rhythm, strokes becoming more frantic. His expression is caught between pre-come mania and livid anger, and Aleks can help but giggle. 

“I’d say I was sorry, but it was hot as hell.” Aleks drawls with an easy grin, wiping the errant snot from underneath his nose as he watches James begin to falter, anger slowly giving way to the sweet sensation of just letting go. 

“Fuck you - I’m going to remember this, Aleksandr!” James’ warning is broken and almost pleading, like he needs something to drive him over the line. 

Aleks holds him in his gaze for a second, watching his mouth fall open and his eyes begin to flutter shut. 

“You won’t remember your own name in half an hour when you’re sitting on my face.” 

The tiny flecks of semen that spray like dislodged shrapnel into his eyes when James comes bent over himself with a shout on his chest sting like a motherfucker. Hissing in pain and wiping is eyes, Aleks is only grateful James didn’t blast him in the face in one of his rare blackout fits of rage. 

Giving James a second to recover whatever scraps of dignity he can collect, Aleks swears he only shuts his eyes for a second. When he regains consciousness, a warm cloth is running over his chest before venturing lower, chased by a towel. 

“The fuck…” Aleks blinks blearily, shooting half upright against the strange falling sensation, like tripping in a dream. 

“You blacked out. Too much excitement for one afternoon.” James grins easily, wrapping Aleks up in his arms. Aleks doesn’t even try to struggle when James lifts him and begins carrying him to his bedroom. 

“Shit, dude. Listen, I really appreciate the head but I don’t know if-“ Aleks begins sheepishly, already feeling way worse than just the illness. He totally intends to make good on that promise, but losing consciousness in the depths of James’ asshole is not a mirror image either of them need after today’s sexual debacle…

James shuts him up with a kiss on the lips, tilting his head to delve his tongue into Aleks mouth. It’s hungry and deep and wet and intensity of it makes Aleks entirely body flush and his long forgotten dick twitch interestedly – yeah, he can shut up for that. 

“We’re just going to sleep, you idiot,” James smiles at him way too fondly. Before either of them can scrutinize it too closely, James adds with a dangerous narrowing of his eyes, “And you have no idea how bad you owe me next time…” 

“Lord of all the holy memes, just let me die!” Aleks cries, reaching to the heavens. James holds him closer and laughs his full-bodied, echoing laugh as he curls into James’ chest, pretending to cower in fear just to stay close – not that he’d ever admit it. 

Despite being covered in sweat and sick and secure in the knowledge he’s getting ass fucked with the Dragon Dildo this weekend, Aleks has never felt so terrible and so content.


End file.
